Letters to Nowhere(45)

“So, you two really share a bathroom?” Tony asked.

“Yep. Do you live at school?” I asked, remembering that Jordan’s school was a boarding school.

“Not anymore,” Tony said. “My mom’s the police chief. She said it looked like we were more of a family if I lived at home. Helped her campaign or whatever.”

Police chief…Several things went through my head in that moment, and I barely heard Jordan say he was going to the garage to get his snow gear.

“Police chief doesn’t get you a big house like that.” Nosy wasn’t something I’d been before, but desperate times called for bold actions. “What does your dad do?”

“He’s a plastic surgeon.” Tony fiddled with the zipper on his black ski jacket and leaned next to me. “I’m sorry about your parents. I saw the article in the paper. My mom was talking about it at home. Then when Jordy told me you were staying here, I put it together.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, not knowing what else to say. At least he was decent enough to bring it up and not say anything stupid like, “They’re in a better place.” I hated that.

“Sure you don’t want to go with us?” Jordan asked when he returned with an armful of snow pants and gloves.

“No, but thanks for the invite.”

“See you later, Karen,” Tony said on his way out.

I sat down at the table with my laptop, notebook, and soup, ready to finish homework and tackle a revised list of long–term goals for Jackie.


February 24




Long–Term Goals—Take Two




Gymnastics Related



Add at least 1 new skill to bars, beam, and floor before Nationals (if I compete)

No major mistakes or falls in Chicago in April

No major mistakes or falls at Nationals in August

Follow Blair’s advice and look for a way to control my mental breakdowns so it doesn’t happen again in Chicago





*Can’t add any more since I’m not allowed to write goals that I’m not completely in control of.




Non–Gymnastics Related



Figure out a way to get more details on my parents’ accident

Find out who was driving that night

Find out about highway cameras or footage not released to the public





Dad,




You should be very proud of me. I’m going to put on my lawyer hat and do some digging for the truth. And I’m not giving up until I find it, because I’m Charlie Campbell’s kid and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.




Love you, Karen




Blair asked me last week how I got over my issue with vault several years ago, and the answer was drills and technical analysis. If I could just apply that to my parents’ accident, maybe I could get past the nightmares and visions of accidents that never happened. Maybe I could get past the panic attacks.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





“We’re not going inside?” Jordan asked.

I shook my head and fought off the emotions threatening to drown me. Be strong…look the beast in the eye, I said over and over again inside my head.

Jordan and I stood in my garage, staring at a very neglected, nearly new silver Audi. It was hard enough to go into the garage. I couldn’t handle stepping inside the house. But Blair was right; I had to force this on myself in order to really gain control of my emotions.

Or at least that was the theory I’d adopted. I fumbled for the keys in my backpack and unlocked the door. I sat in the driver’s seat and started the ignition. Already the familiar smell had my head spinning, but this had to be easier than going in the house again. I sat still, letting the car warm up for a few minutes.

Jordan held the driver door open, leaning in closer to me. “Let me ride with you first. Just a couple laps around the block. It’s icy, and we didn’t even tell my dad…”

I let out a frustrated breath. “Jordan, I’m a licensed driver. My grandmother told me to come get my car whenever I’m ready. Stop worrying.”

His face reflected very conflicting emotions. “How long did you have your license?”

“Three months,” I answered staring at the steering wheel. “What are you going to do to rescue me while you’re sitting in the passenger seat that you can’t do by following me in your car?”

“Fine,” he said, clearly pissed off at me.

He was just worried about Bentley blaming him, since he was the one who had driven me over here. I would have taken the bus if he’d said no, anyway.

“Can you even reach the pedals?” Jordan said in a last–second plea.

I glared at him and pulled the door shut. I’d nearly put the car in reverse when he knocked on the window. I hit the button to roll it down. “What?”

He leaned on the frame, looking so, so cute and stressed out. “Nothing…I’m sorry. You’re right. You have to do this. Just don’t, you know…drive angry.”

I burst out laughing. “Thanks for the PSA.”

I watched in the rearview mirror as he jogged down the driveway and got into his car. And yes, I was totally and completely nervous, but in all fairness, I wasn’t a bad driver. In fact, I had gotten a perfect score on my driving test, but due to last year’s shoulder surgery, I had to wait several months to complete my driver’s ed course. I put the car in reverse and backed out, hitting the button to shut the garage door. I waited until it sealed completely, freezing my home exactly as it had been left, then I was headed down the block, Jordon and his puke green car behind me.